


All That’s Missing is the Feather Duster

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, He couldn't be less humilated if he tried, Loki's not humiliated btw, M/M, Multi, Public Humiliation, community: naughtylokiconfessions, french maid, implied threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's birthday is coming up and Loki wants to get him a present he'll <i>never</i> forget. And if that involves all of the Avengers, a tea party, a frilly apron and fishnets, and an air-tight get-away plan, well, at least you've got a front row seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That’s Missing is the Feather Duster

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

Being Tony Stark’s girlfriend was a challenge. He was the master of forgotten anniversaries and birthdays. He was always late on dates. His apology gifts made you squirm. It took ages to convince him that a bouquet of roses meant ‘I’m sorry’ much better than not-yet-public-release technology and diamond jewelry.

And there was the matter of Loki. Stark’s off again, on again boyfriend cum nemesis cum love of his life. Who was also a secret from every member of the Avenger’s team. That whole ‘not sleeping with the enemy’ thing. You went on a lot of dates with Tony and they were very romantic (and usually ended in mind blowing sex), but…

You went on even more dates where your sole function was to be escorted to whatever discrete location Tony had chosen to meet Loki. You might have been angry at being used like that, but honestly, it was a lot of fun watching them spark off of each other. Plus, the secrecy made you feel like an agent out of a spy movie. Through Tony, you had made friends with all the Avengers, even Thor and Bruce, who both intimidated the hell out of you. Whenever talk of Loki came up, you kept a totally straight face and watched Tony blithely call Loki by all sorts of endearments right under everyone’s nose, because he was the kind of asshole who could get away with that.

There was a third reason you didn’t mind being third wheel to Tony and Loki’s antagonistic romance (or romantic antagonism, you couldn’t always tell). Not that you would ever breathe a word, but Loki made your panties damp every damn time you saw him. The amused condescending superiority in his voice. The way he tossed his hair when he was feeling flirty. The intense, passionate way he would fist his hands in Tony’s hair when they kissed.

A week before Tony’s birthday, he and Loki were on Y.A.D. (yet another date) at a favorite restaurant. Each time, Tony reserved the entire back room for them. The staff were discrete. They carefully obeyed his orders that the food be set out in advance and he not be disturbed from the moment he entered until the moment he left. They probably assumed that you and he were having food-based sexual relations, which made you blush every time you caught their eyes.

The three of you had just started in on the appetisers when Loki slid one booted foot elegantly into Stark’s lap and leaned coyly back in his chair.

"Well, your birthday, Stark. What do I get for the billionaire, philanthropist playboy who has everything?"

Tony wrapped the hand he wasn’t scarfing down shrimp with around Loki’s ankle and petted it.

"How about you in a sexy French maid outfit, serving tea and pastries in front of all the Avengers at my private party?" Tony rolled his eyes. "Loki, don’t get me anything. I do have everything."

"Fair… enough." Loki spoke like he was trying the expression on for size. "It shall be as you wish."

"Yeah? Good. You doing as I wish, that’s a thing I could definitely get into. Preferably if it came with a garter belt and whipped cream. Or one those spiky collars, that could be cool, what do you think, babe?"

Tony looked at you.

Caught in left field, you scrambled for a response that wasn’t a nervous giggle. “I’ll take the whipped cream. Loki can have the collar.”

"Matching garters?" Tony cocked an eyebrow.

Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush. “Sure, sounds hot.”

"Mmm." Loki curled his tongue delicately around his fork. "But is the lady’s complexion sufficiently near mine?"

You couldn’t believe that the three of you were sitting there, casually discussing a threesome, even if Tony was only joking and Loki only flirting. Someday, you vowed, you would settle down with a boyfriend who had heard of things like ‘stability’ and ‘emotional needs’. In the meantime, Loki was looking at you and Tony like he was seeing dinner and dessert.

At the end of the meal, Loki said with affected casualness, “Stark, I have need of your lovely girlfriend. Do allow me to escort her aside for a moment.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to? Nevermind, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.” He flapped a hand at you. “What’s mine is yours.”

"She will return intact, I assure you."

"Excuse me. Do I get a say in this?" You asked.

Loki grinned. “What if I said no?”

"I’d leave."

"What if I stopped you?"

You shook your head. “Loki, that’s not funny.”

He frowned. “I apologise. My dear, will you be so kind as to accompany me to the water closet?”

"To the ladies’ room?" You squeaked.

"I am perpetually confused by this division of toilets. I realise it is not a proper audience chamber, but discreet options are sadly limited. Rest assured, I will conceal myself."

In the bathroom, Loki was as good as his word. Both of you crowded together in a narrow stall with wooden panel walls and a frosted glass door. As an added precaution, he concealed himself with an illusion of invisibility.

The weirdness of feeling and speaking to someone you could not see did strange things to your head, but Loki started talking before you could get too hung up on it.

"Tony’s fantasy. That he desires me to dress as a lady of the serving class and attend him when he dines with his merry band of idiots. You will assist me in this."

"Loki, it was just a joke! He didn’t mean for you to seriously do it. Do you have any idea the kind of problems a stunt like that would cause?"

"Why, yes, actually. I do." His voice was playfully seductive. "Do you?"

"It wouldn’t be good, I know that much."

"No, it wouldn’t be good at all, would it?" Loki’s breath ghosted past your ear. "It would be terrible. So, very, terrible."

Invisible fingers pressed into your collarbone.

"Horrible, even. Ghastly. Unforgivable." Very sharp teeth nipped unexpectedly onto your earlobe. "Tony Stark is mine, do you understand? It is past time the world should know of it."

The hand at your neck slid down to cup your left breast.

"You are also mine." His voice rubbed against you like a living creature, made you weak in the knees and wish desperately to see his eyes. "My loyal pet. Chaos suits you, dear. Let go of you boring qualms and let’s cause a bit of mayhem. Stark will be the happier for it."

It was hard to think about anything with your nipple pinched lightly between his thumb and forefinger, but you took several minutes of silence to deeply consider your answer.

Tony was an adrenaline junkie, no doubt. He got off on hiding his relationship, one of the many, many unhealthy addictions which characterised his life. Talking double, pretending to be a good little avenger while secretly screwing with Loki, risking being caught… it all lit him up like the headlights of a train in a dark tunnel.

In private with you, however, it was different. He several times confessed that the deception wore on him. Tony really loved Loki—not that the word ‘love’ ever crossed his lips—and he wanted to share that with the other people in his life. Badly. He didn’t need to pretend to be pissed when Loki was up to mischief; during battle, his attempts to take Loki down were quite genuine. It was other times. Times when things were quiet and he would whisper words of affection to Loki only to viciously renounce him in front of everyone else.

"It’s not worth it," he said one night while he was fucking you through the mattress. "I seriously think I’d rather not be an Avenger anymore. If sleeping with Loki means being off the team, Fury can go lick a cow’s ass."

"What about saving the world?" You had asked.

"Loki and I will form our own team. We’ll make the Avengers look like incompetent children. The villains will all be raising kittens and volunteering at the food bank when we’re done with them."

You clasped a sturdy hand on Loki’s bicep. “When the Avengers find out the truth? What then?”

"We’ll do what we want." Loki growled at you. "I won’t abandon him, if that is what you are asking."

"He won’t help you be evil," you said.

You could almost hear the sneer in Loki’s answer. “I’m not evil. Any more than he is good.”

The first on your list was Agent Barton, who you cornered alone in the training rooms (which you weren’t technically supposed to have access to, but Tony had upped your security clearance in the building for reasons, most of which were Loki).

He was doing a strenuous workout with two vertical poles and a barbed wire obstacle course: flagpole on one, race over the course, flagpole on the other, crawl back underneath the course. It made you exhausted just watching.

"Hey!" He paused when he saw you. "You lost?"

"No." You tried not to sound nervous or to get caught staring at his forearms. "I wanted to talk to you about Tony’s birthday party."

"That big thing he’s doing at the convention center?"

"The one here. Just the Avengers and me and… well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He’s planning to invite someone that, um, isn’t your favourite person in the world. More like your least favourite, actually."

"Whatever. It’s his party." Clint shrugged.

You pressed the issue. “What if it were someone you really, really hated? Like, what if it were someone you hated as much as Loki?”“There’s no one I hate as much as Loki,” Clint said flatly.

"Okay, well just pretend for me, what if there was?"

"Someone I hated that much? I’d leave. Or kill them. No offense to Tony."

"Right. Well, what if you got to see them really humiliated at the party? Would you stay for that?"

Clint narrowed his eyes. “What’s this about?”

"Just that Tony wants someone to come that you really do hate and I want you to promise that you won’t try to kill them. Can you do that?"

"No murder at Tony’s party. Yep, sure."

You figured that was the best you were going to get and moved on to your next target.

With Captain America, you were even more direct.

"What if Tony wanted to invite an enemy of the Avengers to his birthday party?"

He frowned. “Does he?”

"Well," you tripped over how to deny that without denying it, "just what if he did?"

"Ma’am, I don’t believe Tony would ever do such a thing. He is committed to our mission. I know he fully understands the danger of fraternising with declared enemies and their associates.

"Put your mind at ease. His party will be entirely safe for the presence of ladies, I assure you."

You gave it up for a lost cause.

Natasha was the next on your list. She preempted you.

"Is this about your conversation with Agent Barton?"

"Yes. So you heard that?"

She shrugged. “I hear a lot of things. I also understand priorities, sweetie. If I have to do my job—” particular emphasis on ‘job’ “—then I will, but I don’t fault Tony if he needs to put other things… or people, first.”

She walked off with no further words exchanged.

The last person was Bruce Banner. You weren’t afraid of him—not anymore—but you still waited until he was in the breakfast nook, a room with many doors.

"Hey, Bruce."

"Oh, good morning. Try some of these bagels; they’re cinnamon with walnut. Tony gets them especially for me."

"Actually, Tony is what I needed to talk about."

"It’s okay. For the record, I think you are making the right choice."

Your jaw hit the floor. “You knew?”

"Well, not exactly. But you aren’t the first girlfriend who had asked me to help out in these situations." He winced. "I know Tony can be an asshole and breaking up isn’t easy at the best of times."

"I—what? We’re not breaking up!”

He blinked at you, then coughed delicately into his hand. “I apologise. I seem to have misconstrued things.”

You continued to stare.

"Well… this is awkward. What did you actually want to talk with me about? You know, before I, er, interrupted."

When you finished laying it out, Bruce nodded. “Yes, I see. It would be a bit hypocritical of me to judge Tony for his taste in friends, but thanks for the heads up.”

~~~

The day of the party, you woke up nervous and progressed to terrified. Your hands started shaking at random moments and you kept sipping water for your dry throat until Tony asked if you’d taken a diuretic.

When the afternoon finally rolled around and everyone had assembled in the dining room, you were trembling like a leaf. For the party, you had gotten a smaller table. It comfortably seated everyone but still felt more intimate than the huge oak dining table that Tony kept swearing he was going to have burned.

It was draped in floral patterned linen—your idea—bordered with dancing reindeer—Loki’s idea of a joke—and already set with silverware and napkins and cups.

Tony took his seat and waited. You waited. After a minute, he cocked an eyebrow and glanced around the table.

"I mean, ten points for creativity, guys, but minus about a million for, you know, actually feeding the guest of honour. ‘Cause I’m not seeing any food here. Unless Bruce has us doing some New Age meditation kind of thing. You aren’t, are you buddy?" That part addressed to Banner. "Because of we are, can we all skip to the part where we snap our fingers, chant the magic words, and voila, some pizza? Maybe Chinese takeout?"

"As much as I’d like to be starving you right now," Banner replied, with a pointed look, "your girlfriend planned the meal, so you will need to ask her."

"It’s your birthday party, Tony," you explained, "so we’re going to be waited on," you waited a heartbeat, then finished in a voice laced with deliberate innuendo, "by a very special server."

This was the signal. Loki emerged from the kitchen, bearing a silver serving tray in white-gloved, long-fingered hands. His gait was heel to toe, proudly erect in six inch stilettos, and swaying lightly from the hip. Loki’s entire face was covered—a bit like a ski mask, if a ski mask were made out of white lace set with pearls and woven with lilies and violets.

"Holy shit!" Clint exclaimed. Steve was blushing like a fire engine.

Tony recognised the masked figure immediately and every drop of blood drained from his face. He gripped the fork so hard that the metal started to bend.

The silky black skirt fluttered over Loki’s thighs and accentuated the soft cream-coloured stockings. A tight, stretchy black spandex bordered with white lace made the top and outlined the sharp edge of Loki’s pecs and the hard nubs of his nipples. The short frilly apron embroidered with pink hearts did nothing to conceal how Loki was enjoying himself.

Tony darted frantic glances around the table. Nobody appeared to guess the maid’s identity. You were yourself surprised; you hasn’t expected Loki to mask himself. Lastly, Tony looked at you. You tried to communicate everything you were feeling with your eyes: happy birthday, I love you, please don’t kill me.

Gradually, his expression settled into one you recognised. Determination. Arousal. Devil-may-care. Fuck it all, let’s rock this up. Either this would be the best masquerade since Bonnie Prince Charlie escaped England dressed as Bettie Burke’s serving maid… or not. Tony was going to enjoy it, let the dice fall where they may.

Loki set the silver tray at the centre of the table. It contained seven dessert plates of gilted bone china, each bearing a small linen napkin and an assorted arrangement of pastries.

He served the plates around with graceful, almost dancing movements. Natasha thanked him with a very sweet grin when she got hers… while slapping her table knife repeatedly against her palm. Steve mumbled his thanks into his hands, where his face remained firmly buried.

Having finished, Loki returned to Tony’s side.

"Happy Birthday, sir," he purred—and wow, you had no idea his voice could go that high and breathy—and dropped into a curtsy. "Is there anything else I can get for sir?"

Tony, seemingly unable to help himself, ran a hand up under Loki’s skirt and choked a bit at what he felt there. “How about something to drink, babe?”

"Of course."

Loki curtsied again and turned for the kitchen, giving the room a full view of the back of his outfit. Or rather, a full view of his pale skin and slender, sculpted muscles where the fabric cut out with only a thin collar and two narrow bands to hold the sleeves. The ornate bow holding his apron frustrated an answer to the critical question: was that low-cut really deep enough to hint the top of his ass? You bit down on your lip to stifle the whine of frantic desire that rose in your throat.

"So that… ?" Steve looked constipated, obviously feeling compelled to ask, yet not wanting to know at all.

Tony shrugged. “My boyfriend.”

All eyes turned to you. You flushed and sank down in your chair. “What?”

Clint broke the silence. “Seems a dick thing to do,” he commented levelly. “Leading her on like that.”

"He wasn’t leading me on! I’m just his girlfriend. It’s not like I’m dreaming of our nuptials and being all June Cleaver for him. Shesh! Besides…" You blushed harder. "they’re kind of hot together."

Steve had a desperate kind of smile pasted on his face and looked like he’d rather be climbing Mt. St. Helens in his undies. Clint, creepily enough, had perked up and was looking interested.

Loki brought back a beautiful, expensive teapot filled with a delicious steaming brew. He served everyone with the same easy grace, then set the pot on a lace doily intended to contain the heat.

Then he sank down to his knees beside Tony’s chair. His palms upturned and his head bowed.

You couldn’t stop staring. Clint’s eyes were falling out. Tony couldn’t stop staring.

"Thank you," he eventually managed to say, although it was strangled.

"Well." He cast a cocky grin around the table. "This is certainly my most interesting birthday, yet, wouldn’t you all say?"

"It has a unique aspect to it," Bruce agreed cautiously. He had also been watching Loki, but neither with shock, smugness, or arousal. He looked, if anything, contemplative.

Everyone started eating and conversation slowly resumed. Loki moved only to refill empty cups, to bring dessert—cake with gelato and strong coffee,— and to clear the empty plates. Eventually even Steve relaxed enough to look at Loki—very brief glimpses—without covering his face.

At the end of the meal, with everyone leaning back in their chairs and rubbing satisfied tummies, Loki stood and addressed Tony.

"Thank you for the pleasure of serving you, sir. I’ll take my leave now?" Perhaps you imagined it, but there was something sad, or maybe wistful, in Loki’s voice.

"Yes, thank you." Tony looked miserable.

Loki started for the door. He got half-way and Tony abruptly stood up, knocking into the table.

"No, wait," he said, voice set with a hard edge. "Come back here and let me take your mask off."

Loki had stopped, still facing the door.

"Tony." That was Natasha, speaking quietly. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Tony looked her dead in the eye. “Positive.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll go contact Fury.”

Steve looked confused as she left the room. “What was that? What did she mean, contact Fury?”

You stood up and moved to Tony’s side, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. He needed the support. So did Loki, but you knew better than to touch him uninvited.

He had returned, bowing his head just low enough for Tony to pull loose the ribbons holding the mask on. It slipped off. He straightened, tilted his chin up with proud arrogance.

Clint was the first to react, breaking the uncomprehending silence. He looked for a second fascinated and intrigued by the transformation, then his face clouded over in pure rage.

"You!" He screamed. He tried to leap the table, unarmed, but apparently willing to take on the demi-god with his bare hands.

Steve grabbed him. “No, Hawkeye, not now. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for this. Isn’t there?”

He was looking at Tony with something like pleading. Tony winced and shrugged. The betrayed expression on Steve’s face was heartbreaking, but he resolutely dragged Clint from the room, over the archer’s strenuous demands to be let free.

Bruce was the last to leave. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked from you to Tony to Loki and back to Tony.

"I’ve got to go." He hesitated a few moments. Then he held out his hand to Tony. "You have my gratitude and my respect. If you ever need a friend…"

Tony took the proffered hand. “Yeah.” His voice was thick. “I know.”

"Take care of him, you two."

"Absolutely," you promised.

Loki stared impassively back, until you reach over and poked him in the ribs. Hard. He glared at you, but relented with a sullen, “I will.”

The door closed behind Bruce with a depressing finality.

"Well. Looks like it’s just us three."

You were starting to feel bad. Even Loki had a sympathetic, if totally unrepentant, look on his face.

"What do you think will happen?" You asked Tony.

"No idea, babe. Something between a slap on the wrist because SHIELD planned for this and being arrested for treason because they didn’t. Which leads to Stark Industries abandoning US operations and my forcible extraction by German agents if the United States refuses to hand me over to Russia when they threaten to break off diplomatic relations."

Tony gestured randomly. “I’ve been planning contingencies to cut ties with the glorious US of A since the day I stopped building bombs for them. Bambi, not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but couldn’t you maybe just have gotten me a tie clip or something?”

Loki fluttered his lashes. “Aw, Tony, you said you loved me for me. That you didn’t want me to be like the other girls! I knew it was all a lie.” He wiped the back of his hand dramatically over his cheek. “You said you loved me, but really, you only love me when I’m not the god of chaos. You heartless bastard, why can’t you just love Loki for Loki?”

Loki threw himself on Tony, face pressed demurely into his shoulder, crying with sweetly feminine hiccuping sobs. You knew the sound was going straight to Tony’s heart. Or his dick. One of the two. Also the way Loki was teasing his silky thigh-highs over the bare skin of Tony’s leg.

"Well…" Tony caught your eye, gave a helpless shrug. "It’ll be at least twenty minutes before Fury can get agents up here. That’s enough time for the after dessert, ain’t it? If by afters, we mean the two of you covered in ice cream and syrup and kissing on my lap…"


End file.
